On the Nature of Daylight
by estels
Summary: Katherine Harding, in need of both a job and a general life reboot, moves to Gotham City in hopes of starting over. But what starts as a simple laptop repair transforms into something dangerous when said computer reveals pieces of an intricate plot involving politics and crime. Then there's the new job as a billionaire's personal IT assistant - and it only gets stranger from there.
1. Chapter 1

**hi! thanks for reading! this is probably shit, but i had the idea in my head and wanted to get it out. hope you enjoy! also i stole the title from a song by max richter (it's very beautiful please go listen)**

_Chapter One_

The evening that marks Katherine Harding's arrival to Gotham City is a quiet, rainy one. Drops pound against the roof of the train, an old, rather slow creature that crawls along the tracks, shifting passengers here and there as it turns and swivels.

She glances down at her old but trusty watch - it reads _11:24 pm. _She was meant to get here much earlier - closer to one, actually - but that flight had been cancelled. Glancing out of the train car's dirty windows, her mouth quirks up at the sheer cliche of the sight before her.

She doesn't know much about Gotham, but what she _is _aware of pertains mainly to the city's infamous perpetual gloom - a gloom personified by the rather striking lack of light in the neighborhoods they pass by. Then there's the crime rate, which just so happens to be highest in the East End, where Katherine will be living for the next…

She lets out a deep breath, clutching her single suitcase tighter. The uncertainty of it all is unrelenting these days. Who knows how long she'll be here? In a tiny apartment deep within the city, utterly alone.

Shivering, she pulls her gaze away from the window. She steals glances at the other passengers every so often, wondering what their own stories might be. Are they like her, a bit lost and lonely? Or are they perfectly happy - content with what they have, wanting for little - as Katherine's always wanted to be?

_God. _She shakes her head a little, straightening her spine. She needs to snap out of this stupor that she's been stuck in. There are positive things in the future, including some job interviews within the week. And even if those don't pan out, she's always got her tech repair side gigs. Sure, they don't pay much, but it's certainly better than sleeping out on the streets.

She knows the little savings she's got is partially her own fault. She'd be at least slightly better off if she charged more for her services. But she's lived among the working class for too long, has been part of the bleeding soul of the community. She's seen and experienced first hand the bullshit this economy has handed them. She'd never have the heart to charge them too much for her repairs, could never bring herself to put someone in the hole for even a little while over something so small. The big companies are asking for too much, and she's the one they turn to. She can't let them down.

It's nearly midnight by the time the train finally squeaks to a stop at the drop off closest to her apartment. Wrapping her windbreaker tightly around her middle, she steps off into the chilly October night.

She's lucky that her apartment isn't too far off, only four or five minutes away, but the knowledge does little to ease her anxiety as she walks down the flooded streets of the East End, old tennis shoes splashing in dirty puddles of rainwater.

Incredibly alert, she reaches into the pocket of her windbreaker, wrapping her free hand around her mace. It's not much, but it's something to help lessen the tightness in her chest.

When she reaches the correct address, she books it inside, wet feet slapping on the cold stone of the building floor. It's old as hell, and the elevator looks particularly dubious, so she opts for the stairs. The heavy door shuts with a slam behind her, making her jump. Sweat beading on her forehead despite the evening chill, she quickly climbs the three flights of stairs, exiting on her level and making her way down the hallway.

She finds her room number towards the end of the hall on her right: 311. She fumbles around in her crossbody purse, pulling out the key, turning it, and -

_Home sweet home_.

Unsurprisingly, it's pretty dingy. The walls are a rather pale beige, stained here and there. It's only one room, not counting the tiny bathroom to the left of the bed. Directly in front of her is a small kitchen area, equipped with a sink, a few cabinets, and a countertop.

Needless to say, there's a shitload of expensive stuff to buy. She closes the apartment door, locks both the handle and bolt, and trudges towards the bed, throwing her suitcase down and peeling off her jacket. She goes to hang it before remembering, with a dry laugh, that she doesn't even have a coat hanger.

She tosses it onto the kitchen counter and returns to her suitcase, opening it. It's just the essentials, really - two sets of pjs, a few casual outfits, a few work ones, all crammed into a little rectangular square. There's also her toothbrush, toothpaste, as well as her other toiletries, and -

For the first time that evening, a tired smile creeps onto her face as she pulls out her laptop. It's rather lonesome all by itself, but she's got some other equipment that she's having shipped to her new address. Soon enough, she'll have everything she needs to do her repairs, save for new parts she'll have to purchase here and there, depending on what the job requires.

She places the laptop on the little bedside table, plugging it in. She turns on the lamp as well, and yellow low-light floods the room. It gives the room a more comforting aura, and she shimmies into a set of pjs and snuggles under the covers. She keeps the lights on tonight, as she sleeps.

She's tired, and a bit sad. She needs it.

* * *

It's been a long time since her last job interview - approximately two years, in fact - and Katherine is a bit out of practice.

The next morning is one of near constant nerves, clawing at her, scraping her insides raw. She knows it's not the end of the world if she flubs this one up, because there are at least two more scheduled in the near future.

But if she screws up now _and _during the next two…

Katherine digs her nails into her palm, willing herself to make the thoughts vanish. She _has _to keep a good attitude. She _must _go into this with confidence.

She finishes getting ready, dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, dark hair in a tight ponytail. And the finishing touch - a pair of black pumps that she slips into, wincing slightly at the instant pinching of her toes. They'd been a gift from her mother - although _gift _probably isn't the most appropriate word.

Grabbing her purse, she marches out the door, head held high. _I've got this_.

The East End is less unsettling in daylight. She drinks up her surroundings, doing her best to commit them to her memory. It's a slightly useless endeavor, in all honesty, given her tendency to forget, well, _everything _\- but she may as well try. Depending on how long she stays in Gotham, she may in fact manage the task by the end of it.

She hops on the train, squeezing her way among the other passengers. It's less crowded than it would be during the early morning rush, but it's still a shock for her. She'd grown up in a very small town in South Dakota, and public transport is a whole new world for her. Uncomfortable, she tries to get a feel for the etiquette, awkwardly risking glances at the others. Is she supposed to make conversation? A few people seem to be talking, but they could be friends, or coworkers.

She decides not to risk it. Her immediate train companions don't appear to be in the mood anyways, eyes downcast, faces blank.

Katherine's gut twists. She wonders if that's how she'll look within a few months. Bored. Headed to work at the same dead-end job every day, quiet and cold. The thought makes her a little sick, but she shoves it down. _Not right now. Remember - you've got this_.

Her stop comes up about twenty minutes later, right in the heart of the city. She climbs out, clutching her purse, and the slightest of smiles rises to her lips. It's lighter here, almost, the sun's rays piercing through the cloud cover. It's busy, too, people of all sorts heading to and fro. Heels click on the pavement, and Katherine's join them. She melts into the crowd, oh so easily, and heads towards the building that towers above all the rest - _Wayne Enterprises. _

That momentary feeling of belonging to the thrum of the city fades away as she nears the tower, finally stepping through the revolving doors.

The look of the lobby is enough to make her want to crawl out of her skin, to hide away and wait until she's someone different before coming back. Someone smarter, and more capable. Someone more worthy of this job.

The people who are abound are so well put-together that it's damn near frustrating. Unconsciously, she reaches up to tighten her ponytail, running her hair through her fingers and sighing at how the strands have already frizzed up.

Cautiously, almost as if she's tiptoeing around a minefield, she makes her way up to the receptionist. She's busy tapping away at her keyboard, gaze clear and focused. Katherine waits a few moments. Nothing. She awkwardly clears her throat.

The receptionist looks up, eyebrow quirked.

"Hello," Katherine says, quietly. "I'm here for an interview with…"

_Shit_. She's forgotten the HR worker's name. Heat rushes to her face as she gives a quick _sorry, just a sec _and starts digging around in her purse.

"Name?" the receptionist asks.

Katherine pauses in her foraging. "Katherine Harding, ma'am."

The woman types for a minute, peering at the screen, and nods. "I see - you have an appointment with Mrs. Woods at 11:15?" She looks at Katherine, apparently for confirmation.

_Sure. Indeed. Sounds right._ Katherine nods. "Yes."

"You'll be meeting her on floor sixty. The elevator is to your right."

"Thank you - have a great day!" Katherine gives the receptionist her best smile. And it's mostly genuine; there's one hurdle that she's overcome.

The receptionist gives a nod, which Katherine takes as a victory as well. Smiles, she supposes, are probably rare in the cutthroat world of business - especially when those businesses are headquartered in Gotham City.

The elevator ride is long as hell, and a bit awkward, given the stony-faced strangers she shares it with, but it's over soon enough, and she steps out on her floor. She walks up to the front desk, and after a few exchanges of info, the receptionist disappears into a room. When she returns, she's accompanied by a rather stern-looking woman.

She's probably fifty or so, and quite impressive-looking, hair done up in a flawless bun, dressed in a beautiful beige two-piece suit. Her gaze sweeps over Katherine quickly and shamelessly. Katherine flushes at the quick but blatant scrutiny, painfully aware that she looks like trash compared to everyone else here.

Something like shame curls up in her stomach, and she's almost angry at herself for it. She knows, logically, that the people in this building are no better and no worse than her. But she also knows, in her heart, that people are judgmental. People will seize any excuse to look down upon others. Hell, she knows it because _she's _done it, has had moments of prejudice. She's not proud of it, and she's sure they're not either. It's human nature. And there's a certain amount of logic in that, too.

She does her best to mask her embarrassment, lifting her chin and smiling politely. "It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Woods."

Said woman inclines her head. "Likewise, Ms. Harding. Follow me." She turns around, quickly making her way down the hall.

Katherine follows, nearly speedwalking to catch up. They stop at a rather large room at the end of the hall. Inside sits a gorgeous desk of dark wood, in front of which are a few chairs of similar make. There are shelves full of books, various pieces of art hanging on the walls and a wide window of glass. It may be the most expensive room she's ever been in.

Mrs. Woods takes a seat behind the desk, and gestures for Katherine to sit as well. "Let's get to it," she says, and picks up a file, opening it and taking out a sheet of paper. "It says on your resume that you have quite a lot of experience in IT work, particularly with tech repairs. What kinds of tech are we walking about?"

A bit taken aback by the direct line of questioning - she'd expected some polite "let's-pretend-to-get-to-know-each-other" conversation - Katherine is silent for a long moment, scrambling through her brain for an answer. At the sight of Mrs. Woods rather blank expression, the search goes into red mode, and she manages to spit out, "Oh, various. Lots of different stuff. Um - mostly having to do with personal computers. I've worked with gritty stuff, taking things apart to figure out what's mechanically wrong, but I've also done a lot of work with programming, getting rid of viruses and doing hard drive recovery and all that."

Mrs. Woods nods, seemingly pleased. "Very good." She pauses, setting the file down and looking back up at Katherine, gaze piercing. Katherine shifts in her seat, attempting to keep her smile looking authentic as possible. "There is one thing, though…"

_Here it comes._

"...I noticed that your resume has no reference to any higher education." She frowns. "Do you not have a degree?"

She'd known that it would get brought up, but God - no amount of mental preparation is enough to keep the pure shame from churning in her gut, from seeping into her veins and almost certainly into her eyes and face. "No," she says, softly. For all of her might, she can't bring herself to keep eye contact, looking away and locking her gaze on the carpet. It's nice stuff. Very clean. Immaculate. "I don't."

"You are aware that the application specifically requires the minimum of a bachelor's degree in a related field?"

Katherine straightens her back. She's prepared for this, at least. "Yes. However..." she looks Mrs. Woods in the eyes now, utterly determined. "...I'm a firm believer that experience can be a perfectly appropriate substitute for education. Everything that degree holders know, I have taught myself independently. In fact, I would argue that I might know a bit more."

Mrs. Woods seems to consider this for a long moment, peering at Katherine fixedly. Finally, she sighs, dropping Katherine's resume and folding her hands on top of the desk.

"I brought you in for an interview," she begins, "because I thought you might have made a mistake on your resume, that'd you simply forgotten to add your degree. It's happened before. The rest of your resume is quite impressive. But it would seem I was incorrect. I'm sorry, Ms. Harding, but the education requirement is important for many, many reasons, beyond just knowledge. Receiving a degree requires an incredible amount of dedication and hard work - both of which are character traits that are of utmost value to Wayne Enterprises. It is a _requirement._ I do hope you understand."

Katherine's mind is buzzing. Words echo here and there, bouncing off the walls of her brain. _Dedication. Hard work. _"Character traits" that she, apparently, does not possess.

And then there's this part of her, this fighting instinct deep in her gut, that rises up with sudden force. "Please - ma'am - I'm working on the education part. I applied to a part-time program at Gotham University, one I'll be able to work around. It's accelerated, and I'll have my degree within two years." She pauses, realizing how purely _desperate _her voice sounds. She plasters on a smile, nodding vigorously as she speaks, as if to say _I'm serious, I promise, I'm a hard worker, I'm good, I'm good - _

Mrs. Woods simply says - "I'm sorry, Ms. Harding. I have to ask you to take your leave."

Just like that, the fighting instinct, so rare but so precious and such a part of who she is, fades back into the recesses of her being. It's irrefutable: this is over.

Katherine rises, slowly, suddenly exhausted to the bone. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Woods," she says, quietly. She leaves, the door clicking shut softly behind her.

She walks back to the elevator in a daze, stepping inside and pressing the button for the first floor. There's one other person inside, but she can't spare any thoughts, not even a single one, for anyone else right now. All she can think of is her tiny apartment, with no fridge or dishwasher or fucking coat rack, and how she'll step inside and probably sleep for the rest of the day while the city screams around her. Sometimes, on days like this, she wants to scream with it.

With no small amount of horror, she realizes that there are tears forming in her eyes. As if her day couldn't get any more mortifying, she is now crying in front of a stranger.

She attempts to hold them back, but a few escape, falling down her cheeks in quiet streaks. She keeps her head down, trying her best to focus on the floor, and not on the stranger next to her. Just a few more minutes.

"Excuse me, ma'am - are you alright?"

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _She tries to inconspicuously wipe at her eyes, but it's no use. She looks over at the stranger - a handsome man with dark hair and eyes - and offers a weak smile. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine. I'm good. Thanks, though."

The man is, as most would be, unconvinced. "Bad day at work?"

Katherine's sure the man means well, but she's also quite sure that common elevator etiquette doesn't include conversation beyond the polite remark. It certainly doesn't include emotional vulnerability with strangers.

But the man's comment is so off the mark that she can't help but let out a dry laugh. "No, actually, um - bad interview."

The man gives her a sympathetic smile. "Damn. I'm sorry." He pauses for a long moment, then adds, "If it makes you feel better - you probably dodged a bullet. I've worked here for a while and it can get pretty dull."

And although Katherine could remark on how even a dull job is better than no job at all, and is much, much better than ending up on the streets, she genuinely appreciates the man's attempts to cheer her up. She gives a short laugh, says, "Thanks."

"If you don't mind me asking - what position were you applying for?" he asks. He turns more towards her, hands in the pockets of a rather expensive-looking suit.

"Nothing major - just an IT position." Katherine blows out a long, deep breath. "Too major for me, though, it would seem."

The man is quiet. Katherine's sure he's probably grown bored of the conversation, and she's attempting to suffer through the silence when he suddenly continues, "If I could give you some advice…" he pauses, glancing at Katherine as if asking for permission. His face is rather stoic, but there's kindness in his dark eyes. When she doesn't say anything, he goes on, "...always keep looking. Keep trying. Even when you think you've run out of options, there's always another one out there. Don't get caught on one thing - or corporation."

There is a long moment of silence, in which Katherine considers his words. They seem a bit idealistic, in all honesty. And it's a rather easy sentiment to express when you've got a job at Wayne Enterprises of all places.

But - he's also not wrong. All she can do is move forward. Sure, this interview experience was shit, but there's nothing she can do about it. When the alternative is quite literally deadly, the only option you've got is to keep going.

The elevator is coming close to the man's stop on floor eight. As it dings, and the doors slide open, Katherine says, quietly, "Thanks for the reminder."

The man nods, and although he doesn't quite smile, there's a certain warmth about him. "We all need one, sometimes."

The doors slide shut. The ride to the first floor is quick, and then she's out of Wayne Tower and setting off towards the train.

The rest of today is going to be hell. There's no doubt about that. It's likely she'll still spend most of it in bed, alternating between fits of crying and eating Great Value vanilla ice cream.

But she does feel a little better. And that's something.

These days, she'll take anything.

* * *

**thanks for reading! i have a tendency to slip into first person sometimes idk why lol, so feel free to let me know if i've done that. any feedback would be greatly appreciated! **


	2. Chapter 2

**hi again! thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed/favorited/etc. - the support means so much to me 3 **

**an important note: this is set post batman begins, pre the dark knight. i'm not sure yet if i'll include any plot points from TDK/TDKR - i've got my own ideas for now, but i'll definitely keep the movies in mind! also, i feel like i should mention that i literally know jack shit about IT/tech jobs, so please try and forgive me if my lingo is messed up lmao, and if you'd like to correct me in the reviews please feel free to do so!**

* * *

_Chapter Two_

Katherine does not, at this distressing time of her life, have any friends.

This is actually pretty understandable, in her own, quite logical opinion. After all, she's only been here for four days. She has no job. She's only left her apartment three times this week. God, she doesn't even own a coffee maker - well evidenced by the nasty but necessary cup of instant that she's clutching as she puts away groceries in the kitchen.

The only thing she _does _have is a pounding headache. Does that count as a companion? It ought to, Katherine thinks, given the rather impressive constancy of it.

This isn't to say that she has no friends at _all. _She has a few, but they're all back home in South Dakota, and none of them have made much of an effort to contact her. This is also understandable. They're all adults, and lead very busy adult lives.

Well. Save for herself, it would seem.

It is at this precise moment of immense loneliness that the Universe decides to bestow the smallest of blessings upon her in the form of a knock on her apartment door - which, it turns out, is the arrival of her equipment.

There are a few boxes of it, and after thanking the delivery guy profusely, she drags them all inside. They make the room look even smaller, sitting on the hardwood floor, but Katherine can't bring herself to care. Just looking at all of it makes her heart feel lighter, makes some semblance of hope rise in her chest.

As long as she's got her tech, she's safe. As long as she's got her tech, she's got a way to make ends meet, to express herself, and a world to get lost in when the real one is too cruel.

There's a small space on the right side of the bed where she's set up a little desk she'd purchased from Gotham's local IKEA the day before. It's smaller than she'd like - especially given the price - but sturdy, and after an hour or so, she's managed to unpack all she needs to complete her setup.

It's crammed - but it will do. It will _have _to do .

Filled with a sense of renewed energy, she finds herself motivated enough to clean up the rest of her apartment, getting things organized. She even throws open the curtains, letting the light, however dim, shine in.

When she's finished, she sits down at her desk, feeling truly comfortable for the first time in weeks. For a moment, she simply pauses - closes her eyes and lets the good feelings wash over her. They've become increasingly rare, and she likes to enjoy them while they last.

After a minute or so, she pulls herself back down. She opens her laptop, pulls up her old advertisements for her services, and gets to work.

* * *

Part of Katherine's advertising strategy includes actual fliers. She'd looked up the city rules the night before, and Gotham is pretty liberal when it comes to such regulations. Katherine imagines the law enforcement here has more important things to worry about.

In all honesty, she's glad to get out of her apartment. Being a shut-in can be great fun, but after a certain amount of time, it transforms into something a bit more pathetic. Putting on one of her more decent outfits, she grabs her fliers, puts them inside a cloth bag and sets out into the city.

The time is about five o'clock, and the afternoon sun is shimmering in the October sky, headed oh so slowly to its resting place in the west. Katherine makes her way down the streets of the East End, putting up her fliers wherever allowed. It's much less intimidating in the daylight, but no less depressing; the infrastructure here is clearly not even vaguely taken care of, and the folks who walk beside her are quieter than those in the city's center, where Katherine has been doing a lot of her shopping. Their eyes are downcast, at odds with their quick paces as they hurry towards work.

After an hour or so of scouting out locations and putting up her advertisements, she's quite a ways away from her apartment, out of the more run-down parts of the East End and closer to where the Sprang River rushes along in the cooling air. Katherine is rounding a corner and spies a small, modest-looking coffee shop - _Lauren's Cafe_, the sign on the sidewalk reads.

It's a little late for espresso, but Katherine's got work to do this evening anyways. Not to mention that she hasn't had a good coffee from an actual shop in at least three months.

She steps inside, and a pleasantly relaxing atmosphere greets her. There are only two other customers - a couple, tucked back in one corner. The lighting is soft and low, and the walls are painted a calming dark brown. There's no music, but Katherine almost likes it better that way; the only sounds are the noise of the coffee machines, of the employee who shuffles around behind the counter.

It's small. Cozy. Katherine instantly feels at ease, the city seeming to melt behind her as she walks up to the counter, giving the barista a smile. "Hello!"

Said barista looks about Katherine's age, her long, blonde hair pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She wears a cute little maroon apron and returns Katherine's grin. "Hi! How can I help you today?"

Katherine already knows what she wants - Americanos are cheap as hell - and opens her mouth to order when she spots the woman's name tag. "Oh! You're Lauren! Do you own this place?"

The look the other woman gives her is a perplexing one - almost like joy with a slightly worrying coat of distress. Her smile seems genuine, if not a bit...intense. "Yup! Just opened about six months ago! Still the only employee, though. It can get a little hectic sometimes, but it's all part of the business, I suppose."

"Morning rush must be a real joy," Katherine remarks.

Lauren shakes her head, eyes wide. "You have _no idea_."

Katherine laughs. "I'd wish you luck, but I'm not sure how useful it would be."

"Not very." Lauren's smile is wry. "I'm not superstitious. But the sentiment is appreciated."

Katherine orders her Americano before settling in at one of the tables in an unoccupied corner. She sets her fliers on the table and watches the passerby through the windows for a few moments before turning her gaze back to the cafe's interior. For just this little snapshot of time, no matter how brief, she'd like to forget about the world outside.

A minute or two later, Lauren emerges from behind the counter, her coffee in a rather lovely little glass mug. She accepts it graciously, and is just taking her first perfect, bittersweet sip when -

"You're an IT worker?"

Surprised by the inquiry, Katherine sets her mug down and looks up. Lauren is staring at her fliers, looking rather pensive. Rubbing the back of her neck and giving the barista a pained smile, Katherine replies, "Sort of. I offer private services - that's what the fliers are for - but I'm hoping to get a real job for a corporation at some point."

Lauren nods. "Definitely understand that. I've only been a small business owner for a really short amount of time, but...yeah." She sighs. "It's difficult." Then she pauses, picking up one of Katherine's fliers and scanning it closely. "Say - do you know how to recover deleted content from a laptop?"

Katherine frowns. "It depends, actually. If it was removed from recycle, I'd be able to access it pretty easily. But anything beyond that...I'd have to know more about the computer, and the specifics of the deletion event."

Reaching into the pocket of her apron, Lauren pulls out a small pad and pen, scribbling something down and holding it out. "Your first customer, if you'd like."

Katherine takes it. "Chase Harlow. A friend of yours?"

"My brother, actually," Lauren responds. "He's a rookie journalist for the _Gotham Gazette_. He was working on a story when some of the research he was doing got deleted off his laptop, completely out of nowhere. He was hoping to get someone to look at it, but the prices those tech companies charge are abhorrent."

Katherine gives her what she hopes is a comforting smile, pocketing the name and number. "Don't even worry about that - I charge significantly lower. And I'd be happy to help! I actually got most of my equipment set up today, so I'm more or less good to go."

Stilling gripping one of the fliers, Lauren gives her a smile of immense gratitude and relief. "Thank you _so _much! Chase will be thrilled." She waves the paper around. "Is it okay if I keep this?"

Katherine assures her that yes, of course she can, and as she leaves the cafe, Americano drank and a potential first customer acquired, her heart is utterly light.

When she gets home, she spends the rest of the evening working, get everything in order. And when she slips in bed later that night, she reads the clock - 10:30 - and grins.

_A day that starts well and ends well,_ she thinks, _is one of the Universe's greater gifts._

* * *

Bruce Wayne hasn't gotten any sleep in thirty-eight hours. And while it may not be a new feeling - not by any means - it's one that never ceases to be unpleasant.

Through sheer force of effort, he manages to keep himself awake, if not attentive, during the 9 am board meeting. He keeps his eyes trained on Lucius, on all the members who speak up now and then, discussing matters that are almost certainly of the utmost importance, but his mind is elsewhere. On the last night's patrol, specifically.

Strangely enough, he doesn't ponder over any encounter in particular, but on the sheer nothingness that had permeated the previous night's dark hours. And it hadn't just been last night, but many others before it, as well. It's been quiet for a while now. Disconcertingly quiet.

And Bruce has spent enough time in the criminal underworld to know the difference between true peace and the ominous kind, the kind that brews deep in the underbelly of the city, in dank, low-lit rooms, in abandoned construction sites. The kind that predates the worst moments of destruction.

Something cold is building, and not knowing what that something is makes Bruce even more on edge than usual.

After roughly two hours of back and forth between the board members, of Lucius maintaining calm control over their concerns and complaints (praises are exceedingly rare in the meeting room of Wayne Tower), the gathering finally comes to a close. They file out of the room, grumbling among themselves, until only Bruce and Lucius are left.

"Congratulations," says Lucius, coming to stand next to the chair that Bruce occupies, down towards the far end of the table.

At Bruce's questioning eyebrow, he elaborates, amused, "On staying awake, Mr. Wayne. I'm almost impressed."

Bruce shrugs, gives the CEO a dry grin. "I've got to make sure I'm at least somewhat in the loop, Mr. Fox. Don't want the other board members to think I'm uninterested."

"If that's truly the case," Lucius retorts, "I suggest paying attention, as well. It makes everything even more clear."

Bruce rolls his eyes, but the comment gets a small chuckle out of him. His tiredness is heavy today, however, and he reaches up, rubbing his temples, trying to prevent an oncoming headache.

"Speaking of important matters," Lucius continues, and Bruce looks up, blinking a few times to clear his increasingly foggy vision. "We have a...delicate situation within the company."

There's a note of alarm in the CEO's voice - nothing major, but noticeable enough to make Bruce pay close attention. "What is it?"

Lucius gives a deep, heavy sigh. "I had to fire one of the company's prominent employees a few days ago - an IT expert. He'd ended up digging a little too deeply during an assignment I gave him and…" He trails off, his expression pained.

Bruce's voice is wary. "Lucius, what happened?"

"To put it plainly," he says, "he uncovered some information that led him to a rather...remarkable conclusion about what you do in your free time, Mr. Wayne."

Oh.

"Shit," says Bruce.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

"Is he going to tell anyone?"

Lucius shook his head. "I don't believe so. I managed to psyche him out of it - implied that revealing such a statement to the world may lead to a certain nightcrawler's attention. And not the fun kind."

Bruce gives the CEO a look. "You told him that the Batman would come after him?"

"Not in such blatant terms."

As irritating as this situation is, there is a certain amount of humor to be found in Lucius's explanation. He gives him an approving nod, saying, "Bad for the Batman's reputation, if he squeaks, but at least you got him off the trail for now. Thank you, Mr. Fox."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Wayne - but that's not the only issue. There's also the matter how finding a replacement for him. Handling company matters as CEO, as well as my activities in Applied Sciences, takes up a significant amount of time. Despite how things turned out in the end, that employee helped out with some of the more surface-level tech matters at Wayne Enterprises. I'm only one person, Mr. Wayne - I can't do all of it."

Bruce nods. "So you need a replacement."

"Precisely. And it shouldn't be just anyone. He or she needs to be willing to sign a contract that includes a confidentiality clause - and needs to be willing to stick to it, preferably - in case they dig too deeply once again."

Bruce sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We need someone we can trust." He clarifies, and gives a short, humorless laugh. "Good luck on finding that in Gotham."

Mr. Fox raises an eyebrow. "And here I was assuming that you had faith in the people of this city. I'm a bit surprised, Mr. Wayne."

"It's not that," Bruce says, exasperated. "It's just...this is big, Lucius. Whoever gets ahold of that secret - they're not going to want to keep quiet. It doesn't say anything about their moral character. It's just human nature."

There's a long, terse silence. Then, Lucius proposes, "There was a recent job opening for an IT position at a lower level in the company, just filled a few days ago. I can go through and check out those who were rejected, see who looks promising. I'll send them in here, and they can interview with you. Given your experiences over the past decade, I imagine you're a fairly good judge of character, no?" When Bruce doesn't say anything, he continues, "You can size up the candidates, and you can have the final say."

Bruce turns his gaze to the wide, glass windows that encompass the meeting room. From far away, the view of Gotham is lovely - all gorgeous, gothic architecture, bustling streets. A metropolis filled with life.

It's only when you descend into the crevices of the city that the corruption, the rotten wood, becomes evident. Neighborhoods swimming with crime. Working class people, struggling day in and day out to make a decent living, to put food on their tables, to care for hungry kids.

Those are the people he fights for, the people who need his cape and cowl. He can't lose that over a breach of confidentiality, can't leave them alone over such a simple mistake.

"Okay," he says, softly. Then, more firmly - "Make sure you dig into their lives, Lucius. Find out all the bits and pieces that they'd rather hide away. We can't risk looking over anything."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll send only the best."

Mr. Fox bids him farewell, leaving Bruce to mull over his duties for the rest of the day. It's not a horribly busy day. Outside of this little issue, everything is going surprisingly well, within the company and on the streets.

_It won't last, _he thinks. _It never does._

* * *

**idk how i feel about this one - it's kind of filler, but necessary to get the plot going. i hope you enjoyed it! **


	3. Chapter 3

**hi again! once again, thank you to all you reviewed/followed/etc. you guys are so awesome and give me the motivation to keep writing! this is kinda long, but i really didn't feel like splitting it up. i hope ya'll like it!**

* * *

_Chapter Three_

When the long-awaited knock comes to Katherine's door, it's on a rainy evening in Gotham City. Dark is just beginning to crawl across the city. She's staring out the window from behind her desk, fiddling with her mouse and swiveling her desk chair, deep in thought, when the sound comes, startling her.

Perplexed, she goes to her door, peeping through the hole. She can make out the slightly fuzzy figure of a boy, maybe twenty or so, with blonde hair.

A color not unlike a certain barista's, she realizes. A jolt of energy shooting through her, she swings the door open, grinning. "Hi! You must be Chase?"

The boy jumps a little, seemingly surprised at her cheer, but after a moment returns the smile, albeit more shyly. "That's me. You're Katherine Harding? The IT girl?"

"That's me!" she echoes. She's beyond glad that he's here - she'd been waiting patiently for about a week or so, ever since she'd called after acquiring his number from Lauren.

_Finally, some work. _She's been getting antsy. "Come on in!" Stepping aside, she leads him into the apartment. She settles back down at her work station, swinging her chair around to face him.

He walks towards her quite slowly, observing the dwelling around him. It occurs to Katherine that he's probably taken aback by the pure smallness of it, and blushes. At least it's clean. She'd done everything she could to make it more presentable to future clients, but there's only so much decorating one can do on a budget. "Sorry - I know it's cramped," she says.

Chase's head snaps over to her; his expression is written with surprise. "Oh, no - it's fine!" He assures her, and gives her a kind smile. "My family actually used to live here, so I was just looking to see if things had changed."

"In this building?" At Chase's nod, she adds, "I somehow doubt there's been much...renovation."

Chase smiles, a bit sheepish. "Not really, no." He seems a bit more comfortable now, some of the tension leaking out of his features. His eyes go to Katherine's desk. "Is that where you do your thing?"

Laughing a little at his phrasing, Katherine nods. "Yup! I know it doesn't look like much, but I've got most everything I need right here. That's the computer, I presume?"

Chase nods, comes to stand next to her and hands it over. It's a sturdy little thing, if not a bit worn; the edges are slightly dirty, and some of the metal is bent and misshaped. "How long have you had it?" she asks.

"Um…" It's Chase's turn to go red. "About seven years."

Katherine gives a low whistle. "Don't be embarrassed, kid - that's impressive! The longest-lasting one I ever had gave out after...six years, I think." She gives him a grin. "You must be a good computer parent."

The praise, however insignificant, seems to brighten him, and he gives a little laugh. "Thanks."

She opens it up, pressing the power button. As it boots up, she asks, "So - you're trying to retrieve some deleted content? Could you tell me more about that?"

Chase nods. "I'm a reporter at the _Gotham Gazette, _and I'm working on a story about this new cafe in the Upper West Side. It's marketed as this sort of dual place - somewhere the upper, middle and lower classes can all go. "Chic but cheap", or something." He rolls his eyes. "Not sure how true that is, but that's the assignment, and I can't exactly argue. But I _did _decide to go a more interesting route with it. My story is only available online, so I figured I'd add some multimedia content to go with the actual words.

So - a few weeks ago, I went to the cafe to do some video interviews and capture footage with my computer's webcam. I was there for hours getting content. And I swear - it was _on _my laptop. It was _there_. I checked to make sure, a couple minutes before I left. But when I got home and went to review it all…" He gives long-suffering sigh. "Gone. All of it. I ended up going back a few days ago, but the cafe was a lot less busy, and my content from the initial day was miles better." He gives Katherine a hopeful look. "Do you think you can get to it?"

Katherine, who has been listening to the story with an increasing curiosity, chews thoughtfully on the end of one of her pencils - before realizing that this probably makes her look rather unprofessional. She lets it down, and takes to fidgeting with her hem of her shirt instead. Her mind races as she considers all the possibilities, all the factors that could have resulted in such a strange deletion.

"You're _sure_ the content was there before you left?"

"Completely," says Chase. His tone leaves no room for argument.

Katherine nods, turning to the little laptop and studying it. It's a really odd scenario - but she's more than up for the challenge. There's nothing more stimulating than a good mystery, than an old-fashioned problem to solve. "I can't guarantee anything," she says. "But I'm definitely gonna give this a shot. Do you have a deadline for your story?"

"A month from now," Chase answers. "Luckily, this one's a little off the radar for the paper."

Katherine gives a wry grin. "Class meshing isn't nearly as fun as class conflict, huh?"

"Apparently not."

"It probably won't take too long, anyways - maybe a week or so, at most," Katherine assures him. "And of course, if I can't manage to retrieve the files there'll be no charge."

This seems to take Chase by surprise, and the look he gives her is tinged with concern."Are you sure? I can still tip you or something."

Katherine waves a dismissive hand. In all honesty, she absolutely needs the money if she's going to make it, but she has no interest in charging for ultimately useless services, even if there is some labor involved. "Don't worry about it, kid. Besides," she gives him a grin, "I'm pretty smart, if I do say so myself. I think I can figure this out."

A wave of appreciation washes over Chase's face, and he steps forward, holding out a hand for Katherine to shake. "Thank you so much, Ms. Harding! This means the world."

She shakes. "Don't mention it. I'll call you whenever I've got an answer. Sound good?"

Chase nods vigorously, giving her one last grateful smile before heading out the door.

Katherine swivels her chair around, facing the laptop. "Just wait," she murmurs. "I'll crack your code soon enough."

* * *

When yet another knock resounds throughout Katherine's room, only one day after her first meeting with Chase, she's more than a little confused. She's not done yet - hasn't contacted him at all - and walks up to her door, more than a little wary as she once again takes a look through the peep hole.

The person on the other side is a man - maybe fifty or so. It's difficult to tell. Oddly enough, he's dressed in a nice-looking black suit.

_Shit_. Is it the FBI? Her heart jumps as she flashes back to her high-school days, spending hours figuring out how to hack into her school administrative system to change grades for money. She'd managed to do it, after a good amount of effort, but had lacked the guts to actually mess with anything.

Surely that's not warrant for investigation? Although - now that Katherine's thinking about it, that's hardly the only offense. She'd also hacked into other systems - but only for practice! She'd never actually done anything _criminal _with the skill. It was just a useful talent to have. That's all. Truly. Completely. Nothing morally wrong about that, right?

She takes another look through the peephole. The man looks quite professional. Quite serious. She debates doing nothing, when the man steps forward and knocks once more, making Katherine jump.

Against her better judgement, she heaves out a deep, nervous breath and swings the door open. "Hello!" She says, contorting her face into what is hopefully a very friendly, very innocent smile.

The man, to her relief, returns it. "Hello, Katherine. It's lovely to meet you. Sorry to interrupt your day, but I was hoping to talk to you about a possible job opportunity. " He holds out a hand. "I'm Lucius Fox - CEO of Wayne Enterprises."

Katherine is stunned. She simply stands utterly still for a long moment, so shocked that the man's - _Lucius Fox's_ \- hand goes unnoticed.

After a moment, though, common sense returns to her, and she shakes through her surprise, feeling slightly numb. "Um, hi," she says.

God. If this is a job interview, she's already managed to fuck it up within the first thirty seconds.

Mr. Fox, however, seems unbothered by the surprise. If anything, he looks a bit amused as he asks, "Is it okay if I step inside for a moment?"

Katherine moves aside, allowing him to come in. "Of course!" Her brain is beginning to clear, and the implications of the visit are becoming increasingly apparent.

Job interview. At _Wayne Enterprises. _The place where she'd just gotten rejected from. Had they changed their minds? If so - why send the CEO of all people?

No, no - this can't be about that. She imagines that Mr. Fox is an extremely busy man. If he's here, he's scouting for a different position.

The real question is: _why her? _

Mr. Fox goes to stand on one side of the kitchen. If he notices the cramped nature her apartment, he's considerate enough to show no sign of it; his eyes are trained on her. As if sensing her inward inquiry, he says, "I'm sure you're wondering why I've decided to visit, rather than invite you to the company to speak."

"I"m a little curious, sir."

He crosses his arms, features thoughtful. "I understand that you applied and interviewed for a position at Wayne Enterprises a week or so ago."

Katherine nods, cheeks heating a little. "Yes. It, ah...didn't go well, however."

Mr. Fox's smile is kind, and he waves a dismissive hand. "No matter. This is for a different position, although the area of expertise remains the same." He pauses, as if pondering his choice of words. "This job, however, requires a bit more...discretion."

That piques Katherine's interest. "Discretion?"

"The chosen employee will be handling company matters at a very high level. This is no service desk job - you'll be working hands-on with Wayne technology, with Wayne projects. Some of which is confidential. There'll be a clause in the contract dealing with that matter quite specifically. " When he looks at her now, there is a deep seriousness in his eyes. "Do you think you're up to that, Miss Harding?"

Katherine frowns. In all honesty, the idea _does _make her uncomfortable. American corporations, due to sheer lack of regulation, are already on shaky moral ground. Taking on a job that specifically requires her to keep her mouth shut, regardless of the tech being developed, feels quite dubious indeed.

But she's also done her research on Wayne Enterprises. And while they _have_ done shady shit in the past, they're not nearly as bad as most of the others. It also helps that they're quite philanthropic. It's part of why she'd chosen to apply for a job there in the first place.

And damn it - she _needs _a job. She lets her gaze travel over to her work station, to the project she may or may not get paid for. Thinks of her oncoming bills.

Thinks of her father, back home.

She sighs, uncrossing her arms and giving Mr. Fox a tired smile. "As long as you're not developing some sort of A-bomb or deadly weapons program, I'm in."

When Mr. Fox smiles, there's something she can't quite place twinkling in his eyes. "Nothing quite like that, Ms. Harding. I'm glad you're up for it. As it is, however, you're not the only one I've selected for the position - there are a few other candidates that I've been in contact with. Mr. Wayne would like the final say in who gets chosen. Here -" he steps forward, and hands her a small card. "You can call that number within the week to set up your interview."

Katherine frowns. "I'm interviewing with Bruce Wayne?"

She's not a Gotham native, so she doesn't know much about him - only his name, and a general idea about his rather splashy reputation. She's surprised that he'd be interested in overseeing such a job filling.

"Mr. Wayne likes to stay in the know about the types of people we employ at his company." His smile is as kind as ever - but a bit distant. "He's more interested than many presume, I would argue."

Katherine nods. "I'll take your word for it, Mr. Fox." Looking back up at him, seeing the literal _CEO _of Wayne Enterprises standing in her kitchen, having offered her a job - a rush of pure, wonderful gratitude sweeps her, and she grins, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Thank you _so _much for this opportunity, Mr. Fox. It really means more than you realize."

"Of course, Ms. Harding," he says warmly. "Perhaps I'll be seeing you soon."

He turns to exit the apartment, and is nearly to the door when the thought strikes Katherine - sudden, and a bit random, but she can't stop the question from flying past her lips, the one that she'd first pondered when Mr. Fox stepped inside her little dwelling.

"Mr. Fox - why me?"

The CEO turns around, looking a bit puzzled.

Katherine is blushing now, partly wishing she hadn't said anything. But there's no taking it back now. "I mean…I'm probably nothing compared to the other candidates. I didn't go to a fancy school. I dropped out. I don't even have a degree."

Her voice goes quiet with shame as she adds, "Everything I learned - I had to learn it myself."

Mr. Fox is quiet for a long moment. Katherine's heart seizes, and she fears that he'd made the same assumption that the HR woman made - that she'd gone to school, that she'd simply forgotten to add "Harvard University - BA in Computer Science" in fancy script.

The CEO doesn't say that, though. Instead, he looks at her and says, "Why, Ms. Harding - that's precisely why I chose you."

Eyes lit with that same twinkle, he leaves, the door shutting softly behind him.

* * *

When Katherine arrives at Wayne Enterprises for her interview, two days after her meeting with Lucius Fox, she's more nervous than she's ever been in her life.

She grips her bottle of water on the train ride over to the Tower, tapping on the plastic, eyes trained on the floor. Every instinct is telling her to get off, to flee. To leave before she screws everything up again.

But this opportunity - it truly is, however cliche, once in a lifetime. It's real. It's good. And it's sitting right in front of her, bouncing on its toes, asking her to have the courage to give chase.

She won't give up before she's started. She can't afford to.

When she arrives at the Tower, making her way inside and over to the elevator, her legs are shaky. _Come on, Katherine. Get a grip. _Interviewers are uncanny folks. They can smell fear. She imagines Bruce Wayne, having quite literally grown up in the cutthroat world of business, is no different.

And at this rate, he won't need to smell it - it's probably written all over her face, written on her palms that quiver and shake. She downs another gulp from her water bottle. _Breathe, Katherine. Breathe. _

This interview is taking place even higher up than the last - on floor 75, only a few from the very top. After a few minutes, the elevator door slides open, and as she exists, she flashes back to a small, yet comforting memory. A man telling her: _Keep trying. Even when you think you've run out of options, there's always another one out there_.

The thought gives her a surprising amount of peace. Even if she does screw this up - there will be another chance. There's _always _another chance.

_Although_, she thinks, a bit wryly, _it'd sure be nice to score this one_.

Keeping the man's advice in her heart, she walks up the front desk of the floor, putting on her best smile. "Hi! I'm Katherine Harding. I'm here for an interview with Mr. Wayne."

The woman opens her mouth respond when a voice cuts in - "Right on time, Ms. Harding."

She turns to the source of the voice and -

_No. Not happening. Not possible. _

Standing in front of her, dressed in a slick black suit that could probably be sold at a price that would pay for an entire year's rent, is Bruce Wayne.

And Bruce Wayne, it would seem, is Elevator Man.

Katherine just barely stops herself from spilling any expletives, carefully rearranging her shocked features into something more professional. _Think about it later, _she tells herself. _Keep it together. This is your shot_.

Shoving the elevator encounter deep down - God, she'd cried in front of _Bruce Wayne, who she is now interviewing with - _she steps forward, giving him a shaky smile. She holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

He shakes, and his smile is fairly friendly. "Likewise, Ms. Harding - you can follow me." He steps back, turning around to make his way towards a small door at the far right side of the room.

Katherine does as he says, following behind, but keeping a safe distance. She doesn't want to appear too eager.

Even if she is. Wildly so, actually. The threat of poverty does that to a person, she supposes.

_Too major for me, it would seem, _whispers Past Katherine, and she inwardly shakes her head. _Don't think about it, don't think about it - _

She realizes, a bit too late, that Mr. Wayne is speaking to her.

"Ms. Harding?"

Her head snaps up; Mr. Wayne is standing in the doorway, staring at her, looking a bit concerned. Her face grows very hot very quickly. At least he doesn't seem horribly irritated at her already evident spaciness.

"Sorry - I, um…" she trails off, wondering if she should mention their previous encounter. It's probably pretty unlikely that he recalls, but perhaps she could jog his memory. It does seem at least a tiny bit relevant.

In the end, though, he beats her to it. "If this is about our previous conversation - don't worry about it, Ms. Harding. What happens in the elevator stays in the elevator."

His face is fairly neutral, but there's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Katherine's red for _real _now, blushing terribly.

He holds the door open for her. "Come on in."

She does so, stepping almost carefully inside the small room. It's an office, and a rather quaint one. "Is this yours?" she asks, curious. It's startling blank - no pictures, art, or decor of any sort. There's only a desk - a nice one of beautiful dark wood - with a chair behind and in front of it.

"Actually, it's unoccupied at the moment." He gestures for her to sit, and she does so, watching as he walks around to the other side of the desk. Katherine's heart rate picks up a notch as she settles into her chair, crossing her legs.

She's here. She's really doing this.

_Shit_.

"I'm sorry?"

Katherine looks up, sees Mr. Wayne's vaguely amused expression, and realizes - "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

One side of his lip tilts up, oh so slightly. "I'm afraid so."

Katherine shakes her head - her heart is going _so fast_, this is already going _so badly_, she has no shot, no chance - "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wayne. I'm just…" she pauses, swallowing. "Very nervous. Honestly. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize, Ms. Harding," he assures her. And perhaps they're empty words, but Katherine feels slightly less dizzyingly anxious upon hearing them. "If it makes you feel better, I'm really not here to grill you. And like I said," he pauses to wave a hand in the air haphazardly, "forget about the elevator. You're back. You're here, right now." He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his lap. "Now - you said in your resume that you've had a lot of experience with IT work."

Immensely grateful for the conversation shift, Katherine sits up straighter, nodding. "I self taught myself almost everything I know. I read books, studied websites, took online courses. I'm also planning to pursue my degree at Gotham University, doing classes when I'm not working."

"In all honesty," Mr. Wayne says, "I'm not sure that's going to work."

Katherine freezes - and then the pure, aching dread floods her body. _Not again_.

"We keep our employees at Wayne Enterprises pretty busy. If we hire you, you probably won't have much time to take any classes. Not that you _can't, _of course, but I just want to warn you - it'd be a pretty difficult."

The clarification is so simple, so logical - and the most relieving string of words Katherine has ever been blessed with hearing. The dread leaks away, leaving a sweet lightness. "Duly noted, Mr. Wayne," she says, giving him a soft smile.

Said man nods. "Tell me, Katherine." He leans forward, expression rather intense, and just like that - the fear returns. It occurs to her that there should've been a warning on that contact card that Mr. Fox had given her: _Interviewing with Mr. Wayne may cause intense emotional whiplash. _

"Do you know how to hack?"

Katherine is silent. All the worries she'd had this morning about Mr. Fox and his possible FBI-related identity come running back, and she works to keep her expression as neutral as possible.

Surely they haven't managed to dig all that stuff up. It was barely anything - couldn't have been a blip on the radar! It'd be ridiculous of them to condemn her for it.

Unless…

"Wait - Do you want me to hack for you?"

Now, it's Mr. Wayne's turn to look surprised. "What?"

"Is that why you want me to sign a confidentiality agreement?"

"Ms. Harding -"

"No - It's okay, Mr. Wayne. Honestly. I'm not trying to..._accuse _you or your company of anything. But just know - excluding anything that will hurt the working people of this city - of any city, really - I'm willing to do whatever it is your company would like me to."

There is a very long silence, in which Katherine awkwardly waits for Mr. Wayne to confirm or deny her suspicions. It's only after a moment of consideration, in which the logical side of her brain begins to catch up to her impulsive side, that she realizes - "You don't want me to hack, do you?"

Cheeks burning, she chances a glance at Mr. Wayne. He doesn't appear angry. If anything, he looks rather thoughtful, eyes trained carefully on Katherine. "No necessarily." His lips, very slowly, curve upwards. "But I'm glad you're already so...committed."

God. What's she supposed to say? _Listen - I know I just said I would willingly do crime in order to secure this job, but I was...exaggerating. _

Not likely to convince, she thinks.

In the end, she's saved from having to say anything. Mr. Wayne leans back into his chair once more, eyes still calm. Pensive. "What you said, though - it does have a lot to do with what this job will ask of you."

Katherine frowns. "What do you mean?"

The look he fixes her with is serious enough to capture her full attention, to make her await his explanation with curiosity. "I can promise you this, Ms. Harding: you will never - _never _\- be asked to do anything that will cause any sort of hurt to the innocent people of Gotham. To the people of anywhere. Your job is fairly simple, actually. Your tasks will have to with some of Wayne Enterprises' top projects - specifically in the world of the internet, cybersecurity and the like. Nothing too serious, and all engineering-based projects - the more cutting edge stuff - will be left to others. You'll never be asked to do anything outside of your area of expertise.

But those projects - they're secret for a reason. I asked you about any possible experience with hacking because there are some who frequently try to hack _us. _They've never had success before, but they do attempt it, and often. It'd be most valuable to have someone who could - cyber-speaking - fight back against any breaches in the system."

He pauses, clearing waiting for an answer, and Katherine, a bit shyly, nods. "I have...some experience. Enough to be a good defense player."

Mr. Wayne nods, looking pleased. He continues, "The company's confidential endeavors are kept quiet not because it's what's best for the market - but because it's what's best for this city. And I know my company isn't squeaky clean, but..." he trails off, eyes flickering over to the office window, scanning the skyline outside. Then, they snap back over to her. "...but I'm trying to do good with it. Good that lasts."

There's an intensity in those eyes that tells her: _this man is genuine_. Katherine nods. "That's a very noble goal, Mr. Wayne. I'd be honored to be involved in achieving it."

The look he gives her is, dare she say, almost approving. But perhaps she's seeing things. She doesn't want to get her hopes up.

"Now that that's been acknowledged," he says, "let's get on to the real interview."

The words might be intimidating, but his tone is teasing, and she finds herself more relaxed now that the more questionable parts of the job description have been more or less resolved.

"So," he continues, "you self taught yourself most of what you know." He pauses. "That must have taken a lot of time and effort."

Katherine smiles ruefully. "That's putting it rather lightly. Ever since I was a kid, I've spent hours working with whatever tech I could find. I'd pull things apart, attempt to put them back together." She chuckles softly. "It took me a while to get good at that last part. But I learned.

Then I got to high school, and everyone around me was talking about their dreams, the jobs they hoped for. The careers that motivated them to study hard in school. But I never wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer or a businessman." She gives Mr. Wayne an apologetic look. "No offense."

Mr. Wayne shows no such pettiness - just smiles a little and says, "None taken."

"All I ever really wanted was to work with technology. I just knew it, you know? My dream job was never a question for me. So I got to work. Studied my ass off doing online classes, all through high school. I read books, went to people in my community to learn what I could from them. When I was seventeen, I started my repair and diagnostic service for computers - and I've been doing that ever since, no matter where I've been living.

And I know my route hasn't been very conventional, and there have been some...mishaps along the way. But I've given everything to my craft. It's what I'm good at, and it's what I love. And if I can use it to be of help to people in any way, to make the world even a tiny bit less dangerous - then that's even better."

Spiel spoken - and heart still beating a little faster than usual - she sits back in her chair, awaiting Mr. Wayne's response. She tries to keep her gaze planted firmly on the office floor, but her curiosity, as it often goes, gets the best of her, and she finds herself stealing glances at the man in front of her.

He appears to be deep in thought - quite comfortable in the moment of silence, as opposed to Katherine, whose nerves getting tighter and tighter with each passing second.

Eventually, Mr. Wayne stands up, walking around the desk and coming to stand next to Katherine. She does the same, facing him, legs still a bit shaky.

Mr. Wayne holds out a hand. "Congratulations, Ms. Harding," he says. Katherine's heart damn near stops. "If you're ready to join Wayne Enterprises, I'm ready to hire you."

And Katherine has had similar moments to this before - moments of pure speechlessness, moments of pure _joy_, where the shock and the relief is utter happiness is so vibrant, so vivid that you're convinced that none of it is even real. But it has been a damn long time. She'd almost forgotten the feeling.

On a fall day in Gotham, in a little office in Wayne Tower, she remembers.

The only thing she can bring herself to say is - "Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She reaches out, shaking his hand. His grip is firm, and warm. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, Ms. Harding."

He leads her back into the lobby; the receptionist watches them curiously as they walk up to the elevator.

The sight of it makes Katherine go red, and she turns to Mr. Wayne to apologize for their first meeting, given they'd kind of glossed over it - but what comes out instead is, "You really helped me, you know."

Mr. Wayne is quiet - head tilted, eyes curious. Before she can lose her courage, she continues, "That day. In the elevator."

God. It sounds so...Katherine inwardly shakes her head, blushing, and forges onward. "That interview...it was pretty shitty. The woman who conducted it - she said some stuff that really messed me up. But your advice...it helped. Really."

For the first time since they'd met that day, Mr. Wayne's expression morphs into something almost soft. Even during their interview, he'd managed to keep himself fairly neutral - smiles all kind, and genuine, but a little distant. This look feels more..._open. _

It's only for a second, though; a moment later, it closes off again. But there's real kindness in his words when he replies, "Like I said - it's something we all need, sometimes."

Katherine nods, and steps forward to press the elevator button. She gives Mr. Wayne a quick smile before looking back down at the floor. "Indeed."

While they wait for the doors to open, he fills her in on some of the details of her new job. "You'll be starting tomorrow, if that's okay?" At her nod, he continues, "Your office is the one we just interviewed in. Work starts at eight o'clock, and there'll be someone to help you get started."

Katherine is filing all of this info away in her brain - she'll definitely need to write it down when she gets home - when a thought occurs to her. "By the way - what _is _my job? Officially, I mean. The title."

Strangely enough, a glint of amusement sparks in Mr. Wayne's dark eyes. "In practice, you work for the company as a whole. You'll be spending some time with Mr. Fox, as well, given his heavy involvement in Applied Sciences, which is the division your position technically falls under. Officially, however, you work for me."

Katherine stares. "What?"

"The last person who had your job was given a little too much free reign. As such, the position has been put under my supervision, though you'll be receiving projects and work from Lucius, mainly."

Silence. Then - "So, my job is -"

"IT Assistant to Wayne Enterprises' Chief Shareholder." He looks at her, and his grin is something akin to a tame brand of mischief.

Katherine is unsure what to say, or how to feel. So she goes the safe route, inclining her head and saying, "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Wayne."

Blessedly, the elevator doors open with a ding, and she steps inside.

"Please," says Mr. Wayne, "now that we're coworkers - call me Bruce."

And with that, the elevator doors slide shut.

* * *

It's only 6 pm when Katherine makes it home, but she's incredibly tempted to crawl into bed regardless of the time. She's utterly exhausted; that interview had taken everything out of her.

But as she walks into the bedroom area of her apartment, she spies the laptop sitting on her desk. Despite her newly acquired job - _I have a job now_, whispers the part of her that wants to fling the window open and scream it all to the world - she doesn't intend to quit her side hustle. It's more than a job for her. It's her hobby. Her passion.

She still hasn't cracked the mystery of Chase Harlow's laptop - and she doesn't intend to give up. Changing into her comfy clothes, she opens the stubborn little thing and gets to work.

* * *

At three am, she solves it. And what she finds sends a chill, ominous and creepily cold, deep into her bones.

* * *

**hope you all enjoyed! drop a review if you'd like and have a lovely day 3**


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